


Warmth

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Only this time will be better because it will be Remus and him and the sodding sand he's got in places no bloke wants to have sand ever, though he can do without the last bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dogdaysofsummer's prompt _warm stone_.

Sand is sharp gritty granules grinding under his palms his calves his heels but he pays it no mind. Mind and mind's eye is focussed on Remus, on shock of brown locks hanging in his eyes, on flash of pink tongue that darts out betwixt his lips as he concentrates on the task at hand.

"C'mon," Sirius says, reaching out toward thin nimble fingers smoothing rolling pinching the goods. And he knows it will Be Good. It will Be Good and his mind will get all Floaty and Lazy, just like it had that time they'd done this with the stash James had confiscated from a third year behind Greenhouse Three. Only this time will be better because it will be Remus and him and the sodding sand he's got in places no bloke wants to have sand ever, though he can do without the last bit.

"I'm working," Remus says, voice taut testy true, and Sirius laughs.

Sirius laughs because Remus is Too Prissy Perfectionist, and he reaches out to snatch the Goods away.

"Watch this," he tells Remus, eyebrows waggling. A squint of one eye, the centring of magic, a mental _push_ and the tip of the Goods blazes.

Crowing, Sirius presses the unlit tip into Remus's mouth. "Suck," he says, not removing his fingers because his skin against Remus's skin is The Absolute, and The Sublime stirs within as Remus inhales-exhales-inhales, pressing soft lips against soft pad of Padfoot-person's finger.

"My turn," he says suddenly, plucking The Goods from Remus's mouth. 

Remus's eyes water as he wordlessly extends his hand toward Sirius.

 _No_ , Sirius shakes his head. Fingers gently prod Remus's cheek, telling. Asking.

Mouth opens, the other follows, and a blue-grey haze lazily tumbles from one warm crevice to the other. Smoke rolls down down down Sirius's throat, filling his lungs, and he feels Peaceful. This is Peaceful.

Remus's hand covers his. Sirius can feel the heat from the burning Goods roll over their fingers, and eyes black as coal and berries and space fall shut.

Peaceful, yes. But not only so.

_This is also warmth._


End file.
